


found and lost

by extasiswings



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, M/M, Woke Up Married, just go with it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:20:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27357907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extasiswings/pseuds/extasiswings
Summary: Buck doesn’t think Maddie buys his abrupt change of subject.  He wouldn’t, in her shoes.  But she goes along with it, for which he’s grateful.He’s not married.  Not to Eddie Diaz, not to anyone.If he keeps telling himself that, maybe it’ll be true.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 77
Kudos: 284





	1. Waking Up In Vegas

**Author's Note:**

> So, several of us were discussing our love of "woke up married" fics and I was, as usual, shamelessly enabled into writing a Buddie version because I am nothing if not predictable. I considered writing ahead before I started posting and maybe saving it for Wedding Week in January, but then I figured that I should just throw it out there in case anyone else badly needs a distraction this week. With that in mind...hope you enjoy :)

Eddie hasn’t always been a light sleeper. But after having a kid and going to war—well, things change. Which is why even though he feels like his head is stuffed with cotton and his eyelids are so resistant to opening that they might as well be glued shut, he can’t help stumbling awake at the loud buzz of a phone on a nightstand. 

He’s in the middle of bargaining with his body to cooperate when the mattress next to him shifts and an arm reaches across him. 

Eddie catches a low swear before the mattress shifts again, whoever his bed partner is getting out of bed to answer. 

“Maddie? ...no, no, calm down, it’s okay, I—where are you?”

The man’s voice fades out as he goes into the bathroom and shuts the door and Eddie returns to the task of trying to figure out where he is, who he’s with, what the hell he did the night before, and if he really needs to be awake right now or if he should leave everything else for a little while longer and go back to sleep. 

When he finally forces his eyes open and manages to blink blearily at the clock on the side table, he learns it’s just barely five o’clock in the morning and the darkness in the room isn’t because the curtains are closed but because the sun isn’t up yet. Definitely a point in favor of going back to sleep. A glance around the room confirms what he expected—it’s definitely not _his_ room, is in fact significantly nicer than the one he’s been staying in for the duration of the trip—and the clothes scattered haphazardly across the floor coupled with his current state of undress make it pretty clear that whatever else happened the night before, sex was definitely involved. 

Breaking a year-long dry spell by getting so plastered he can’t even remember it? Not exactly the way he planned on having that happen, Eddie thinks. 

He sighs and rubs his right hand over his face before rolling onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. As he does, the bathroom door opens again—

“I’ll be on the first flight out, don’t worry. Everything’s going to be okay. ...uh huh...yeah...okay, love you—bye.”

Eddie takes a moment to look as the man hangs up, sitting up on his elbows. Even though the room is dark, he can see enough to realize that at least he hadn’t picked up a total stranger, although the three days he’s known the other man—Buck, Eddie reminds himself, because just because Charlene has taken to referring to him as The Hot Blond, doesn’t mean Eddie should keep the habit, especially after waking up naked in his bed—are still less time than he would usually take to fall into bed with someone. 

Buck runs a hand roughly through his hair and zips the jeans that had been hanging loosely off his hips before walking over to a carry-on suitcase in the corner of the room and rummaging through it for a clean shirt. 

“Everything okay?” Eddie asks.

Buck jumps and turns around in the middle of pulling on a t-shirt.

“Shit—sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” he replies as he finishes smoothing it down. “Um—family emergency, my sister—the specifics aren’t important, but—”

“You have to go,” Eddie fills in. He starts to get up, but Buck crosses to the bed and stops him with a kiss.

“I feel really bad about this...and not just because otherwise I definitely would have made plans this morning involving room service and keeping you here,” Buck says. “But you can stay if you want. The room’s paid for through the end of the week...someone should get some use out of it.”

Normally, Eddie might argue with an offer like that, but there’s a pressure behind his eyes signaling that the fuzziness of sleep has worn off enough that he’s going to really start feeling the hangover soon unless he defers it by going back to bed for another few hours. So for once he doesn’t question a good thing and just leans up enough to slide a hand around the back of Buck’s neck and kiss him again. 

“Hope everything works out with your sister,” he says when he pulls back.

Buck looks faintly dazed, but blinks and clears his throat roughly before stepping away. “Thanks, I—yeah. Me too. Tell your friend congratulations for me. On her wedding and everything.” 

Buck goes back to his suitcase after that, checking to make sure he has his wallet and keys before zipping the case closed. He stops by the door, looking back at Eddie over his shoulder.

“I...had a good time the past few days,” he says.

“So did I,” Eddie replies, surprised by how much he means it. For days he’s been out of Texas, away from his parents, away from the ghost of Shannon, away from responsibilities—as much as he loves Christopher, he hadn’t realized how thin he had been stretched, how much he’d neglected taking care of _himself_ to give a hundred and twenty percent to his son. 

Buck smiles and looks down at the floor. “Um...I’ll call you?”

Eddie shrugs and leans back against the pillows. “You have my number.”

“Yeah. Okay...bye.”

And then, he’s gone and Eddie closes his eyes and allows himself to slip back into slumber. 

It’s not until he wakes up again several hours later to sunlight streaming through the windows that he rubs at his face with his left hand and registers the extra weight and slide of metal. Pulling his hand away, Eddie blinks once, then again as he stares. 

For a moment, he thinks it’s just his normal wedding ring—he’s kept wearing it since Shannon died, and was only finally convinced by Charlene to take it off for this trip. It’s not entirely out of the realm of possibility that he could have put it back on at some point the night before. But on closer inspection, Eddie realizes it is very much _not_ the same ring.

Across the room, there’s a blazer haphazardly tossed over the back of a chair. It’s not Eddie’s, so he assumes Buck must have missed it when gathering up his things in the dark. When Eddie picks it up, a folded paper falls out of the pocket and flutters to the floor. His stomach drops out from under him when he unfolds it to see the words _Marriage Certificate_ at the top in big, bold script, followed by confirmation that apparently he did, in fact, marry one Evan Buckley the night before.

It comes back to him suddenly in flashes as he sits down heavily in the chair—drinking at one bar and then another, Buck pressing him up against the wall of an alley and then vice versa until they were yelled at by a security guard, a chapel with streamers and an excessive number of red glitter hearts—

Fuck. He really—they really—

_Fuck._

* * *

Buck blames the hangover. And the adrenaline. And the fact that there are about a million other things to focus on, because when your sister calls you crying first thing in the morning and says she needs your help because she left her abusive shitbag of a husband after he left for work and she’s afraid he’ll come after her, the last thing you’re going to think about is the new accessory you apparently acquired at some point the night before.

And Buck really doesn’t notice. First because he’s fixated on catching a flight, and then because he crashes pretty much the second he closes his eyes after takeoff, and then when he arrives in Pennsylvania, he has a pretty one-track mind until long after he’s picked Maddie up and spent several hours in the waiting room at their lawyer’s office while she and Maddie discussed restraining orders and divorce papers and assets. It’s not until they’re halfway to Buck’s place in Philadelphia that Maddie trails off in the middle of a sentence and says—

“I’m sorry, what’s that?”

Buck takes his eyes off the road for just a moment to glance over. “What’s what?”

Maddie’s eyebrows are practically at her hairline.

“The _ring_ on your finger?” She gestures to his hands on the steering wheel. “Is that a—is there something you need to tell me?”

Buck’s eyes flick down and the gold band registers for the first time. His breath catches as his mind offers up a hazy memory of hands and kisses and laughter before he pushes it away and clears his throat roughly to watch the road again. 

It’s probably not real anyway, right? It was Vegas. Things happen all the time, fake weddings with plastic rings that people can do for a laugh. Right? Besides, Eddie wouldn’t have—they only just met, they would have to have been absolutely insane to have gotten _married_.

 _Or just really, really drunk_ , an unpleasant voice whispers in the back of his head.

Buck clears his throat and forces a laugh. “No, no—it’s—I got it to ward people off when I was out last week. Didn’t really feel like picking up and it seemed to work...must have forgotten to take it off.”

Maddie looks at him for a long moment. “Uh huh,” she says finally, clearly skeptical. “Well, if you ever need a divorce lawyer, apparently Linda is great.”

“Right. Sure,” Buck replies. “So, did you want to stop and eat anywhere, or order something on the way maybe—”

He doesn’t think she buys his abrupt change of subject. He wouldn’t, in her shoes. But she goes along with it, for which he’s grateful.

He’s not married. Not to Eddie Diaz, not to anyone. 

If he keeps telling himself that, maybe it’ll be true. 


	2. Chapter 2

_July 2015_

“Charlene, I already told you, I’m sorry but—”

“But you can’t come to the wedding because it’s on the other side of the country in the fall and Christopher is starting pre-K this year, I know.” Eddie shifts his phone to the other ear as he gets up from the couch and walks down the hall to his room, stopping briefly in Christopher’s doorway to make sure his son is sleeping peacefully before continuing on with the goal of collapsing into his own bed.

“Then…?”

“First week in August—come to Vegas for my bachelorette,” his friend explains, barreling on before he can interrupt. “It’s still about a month before Chris has school and I know you have more than enough leave saved because you’re always working. Really, it’s in your best interests—pretty sure you’re gonna keel over and die at Fort Bliss one of these days if you don’t take a vacation.”

“Chris—” 

“Can handle you being gone for a few days,” Charlene insists. Her voice gentles over the line. “Eddie...you came home. You’ve been there for him and he knows that. You don’t have to keep punishing yourself for—”

“Charlene.” Eddie closes his eyes and rubs a hand over his face.

“Sorry,” she says quietly. “I’m just worried about you. You’re one of my best friends, Eddie, and you work too hard. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing all the time, but…”

“You sound like Sophia.”

“Yeah, well, your sister knows what she’s talking about.”

Eddie shuts his bedroom door behind him, leaning back against it as he considers the offer. She’s not wrong, is the problem. And he knows if he called Sophia or Adriana they would tell him the same. Hell, Sophia would probably pack his suitcase and shove him out the door herself. 

As if Charlene senses the chink in his resolve, she presses on. “Come on, Diaz, please? For old times’ sake?”

He bites his cheek against the smile that threatens. “It had to be Vegas?” he complains, and his friend laughs in victory.

“Well, if you were Julia’s friend it would have been wine tasting in Napa, but I’m the one you lived with for months in the desert so I’m pretty sure that means I’m the bride you’re stuck with. It’s a little late for takebacks now.”

“I’m not going to any strip clubs and I’m not gambling,” Eddie replies.

Charlene hums. “We’ll see. We can discuss it when we get there.” 

“Charlene—”

“ _Relax_ ,” she teases. “I promise to protect your virtue or whatever. But for the record, I am going to make you have fun. You remember what that is, right?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Love you, too, Diaz,” she shoots back. “I’ll send you the itinerary. Give Chris a kiss for me, okay?” 

“I will,” Eddie agrees. “Tell Julia I said hi. And that she’s marrying a menace.”

“She already knows that. Believe me, she likes it when I…”

He hangs up and his phone buzzes a second later with a text that’s just a string of laughing emojis. Despite himself, Eddie grins and types out a response before finally setting his alarm and plugging his phone in and falling into bed. 

For all his protests and for all his nerves about leaving Christopher, when the time comes to leave several weeks later, Eddie breathes a little easier than normal after Sophia reassures him that his son is _in good hands and should be spending more time with his cousins anyway, stop worrying, Edmundo_ , and all but pushes him out the door. 

Charlene hugs him tight when she meets him at the airport after he lands. Eddie takes a moment to hug her back, swallowing hard around the lump that stops his throat. He hasn’t seen his friend in person in several months, not since Christmas when she stopped in El Paso on a road trip from Houston to Albuquerque to visit her parents. Before that, she had been there for the funeral, had been waiting when he got home from Afghanistan, his tour cut short, pulling strings so he could finish out his contract working on base, running interference with his parents—she stayed for weeks because _shut up, Diaz, you would do the same for me if Julia died_ and didn’t make him talk about the secret that only the two of them knew—

Her eyes are a little shiny when she pulls away and Eddie clears his throat, hiking his duffle bag higher on his shoulder.

“Don’t tell me you missed me,” he teases gently to break the ice. It works—Charlene snorts and shoves at his shoulder.

“You, Diaz? Never,” she replies. “Just tearing up over how bad you look. Can’t believe I’m going to spend the week being seen with you.”

“Well, glass houses…” Eddie dodges another smack and slides his arm around her waist because he can. He got used to it during his first tour—being around other people all the time, the easy camaraderie that comes from being in each other’s spaces, in each other’s business, being responsible for having each other’s backs. He’s never been the kind of person who made friends easily, but Charlene had taken one look at him and decided that was going to be her mission and he learned pretty quickly that she usually got what she wanted.

She doesn’t say anything about it, doesn’t tease him about being a little touch-starved, just hums and squeezes his hand as she turns them towards the parking garage. 

“The rest of the girls are at the hotel already, which probably means either in the pool, at the bar, or playing slots, but we agreed to meet up for dinner in another couple hours and then check out a club the concierge told me about,” she says as they walk. “Sound good?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow and glances down at her. She laughs. “No strip clubs and no gambling for you, because you’re secretly eighty years old, I remember. It’s not that kind of club, cross my heart.”

“I believe you.”

“You have to do one thing for me though,” Charlene adds.

“What’s that?”

She bites her lip and squeezes his hand again before twisting his wedding ring off his finger. She drops it into the front pocket of his jeans and it feels heavier than it is.

“Leave it off this week. Just give yourself one week where you have fun and relax and where every time you look down you aren’t going to be reminded of _her_. You can put it back on when you go home if you really want to, but—”

“Okay,” Eddie agrees. It’s not the first time he’s taken it off—he does it all the time at work when he’s helping to train the new combat medics—but it is the first time he hasn’t worn it where there’s intention behind it. And that...he’s not entirely sure how to feel about that. 

“I’m not going to meet someone though,” he clarifies, as much, he thinks, for himself as for Charlene. “It’s Vegas.” 

She laughs as they reach her rental car and she finally slips out of his hold. 

“I’m not suggesting you go looking for your soulmate,” she replies. “I’m saying, keep an open mind, maybe you’ll get laid. You look like you could use it. And I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what Vegas is for.”

“If you say so.”

Still, Eddie thinks. Open mind or not, he’s pretty sure Vegas is the last place he’s likely to find anything.

* * *

Vegas is boring. That’s the opinion Buck has come to. 

When he made the plans, admittedly on a whim, he thought he would fly out, book a room for a couple weeks, and then spend the next several days engaged in some very thorough debauchery with a side of blowing some of his trust fund on cards. He expected it to be dizzying and filthy and fun and a fantastic break from Philadelphia and the ever more frequent questions from his parents about what he’s planning on doing with the rest of his life.

Instead, he’s just...bored. The glittering mirage of the city wore off after all of about a day and ever since he’s felt tired. Hollow. Disinterested. 

He’s pretty sure he’s not old enough to feel like that. He’s twenty-three and has more money than he knows what to do with—these are the years where he’s pretty sure he’s supposed to be irresponsible, to drive too fast and make spontaneous decisions and drink too much and sleep with everything that moves. To experiment and fuck up and be selfish and find himself or whatever. 

And honestly, it was fun for awhile. Like in the middle of undergrad, when he meant to spend his winter break in South America and instead ended up staying for six months, going country to country until his father finally threatened to freeze his accounts unless he came home and finished his degree. But now, sitting at the bar in yet another club in yet another city, contemplating the usual option of finding some stranger to take back to his hotel room, Buck can’t think of anything he wants less. 

With a heavy sigh, he drains his drink and leaves a sizable tip on the bar, deciding to stop in the bathroom before leaving. He’s just washing his hands when the door opens and a man walks in looking like sin himself.

Although that’s only on first glance. On the second, he still looks like sin, but Buck can see the tightness in his shoulders, his jaw—the stress is confirmed when the man goes to the other sink and splashes water on his face. Buck grabs an extra paper towel and holds it out before he can think better of it.

“You okay?” He asks. The man jumps, like he either had been so distracted he hadn’t noticed Buck, or had expected him to leave without saying a word. He does take the towel though.

“It’s, uh—my best friend’s bachelorette party. The whole week, really,” the man explains as he dries his face. “And that’s great, but it’s—I don’t do this much. The clubs and the crowds and it’s a little…”

“Overwhelming?” Buck offers. 

The other man huffs a laugh and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah.”

Honestly, Buck couldn’t say what makes him do it. Maybe it’s just that he thinks the guy is hot as hell despite the fact a few minutes ago the last thing he wanted was to leave with a stranger, maybe he just wants to do a good deed for the day. He doesn’t know. But what trips off his tongue is, “Do you want to get out of here?”

“What?”

Buck shrugs. “It’s not exactly scientific, but I’ve found that most of the time if your friends think you ditched them at a club in order to hook up with someone, all is forgiven. It’s the easiest excuse in the book.”

The man stares for a moment, blinks. “I—I don’t even know your name.”

“Buck. Now you do.”

“Eddie,” the man replies. 

Buck grins slow and inviting. “It’s nice to meet you, Eddie. So...do you want to get out of here?”

Eddie swallows hard. “I don’t...really do this much either,” he says slowly.

“I don’t put out on a first date anyway,” Buck replies, which is a laughable lie, but it makes Eddie flush in a way that Buck is extremely interested in seeing more of. “But I’m more than happy to let your friends think otherwise if it’ll get you off the hook for the night.”

At first, he thinks Eddie is going to say no, sees the way Eddie hesitates and for the first time wonders if he’s taken and just doesn’t know how to say it. But when Eddie wets his lips and opens his mouth, what comes out instead is— 

“Okay.”

And just like that, Buck’s night is looking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're unfamiliar with my other works, Charlene is an original character that I created and have used in both _sit down young stranger_ and _dream of some epiphany_. And in my continued insistence on Giving Eddie More Friends, she is very much going to be part of this fic as well!


	3. Chapter 3

Eddie doesn’t know what he’s thinking, really. 

Well, no, he sort of does. He’s thinking that it’s been two days and he still has another five ahead of him and he’s never in his life gone to so many bars and clubs so many nights in a row. He’s thinking that he’s dehydrated and the music is too loud and there’s a headache building behind his eyes and while he probably still has a couple more years of being able to stay up all night with limited consequences in him, he’s vastly out of practice.

And maybe because of everything else, his guard is down enough that he can’t stop himself from admitting that Buck is beautiful. Can’t push down the flare of desire when Buck’s eyes trail over him and darken, when a slow smile spreads across his mouth. 

Eddie’s used to being looked at. He’s not used to wanting to look back. It’s...strange.

“Do you need to say goodbye to your friends?” Buck asks when they step back onto the main floor of the club. Eddie glances across the way to see Charlene laughing with her head thrown back and takes a step only to pause, suddenly indecisive.

When Buck had said it—easiest excuse in the book—it had sounded so reasonable. Except that Eddie knows if he walks across the room and tells his best friend that he’s going home with a stranger he met in the bathroom, she’ll be skeptical no matter how much she’s been hoping to get him to do just that sort of thing. 

“When I say I don’t do this much...” Eddie says before trailing off. Buck huffs a laugh and steps closer, sliding his hands up Eddie’s chest just as Charlene catches Eddie’s gaze and tips her head in question.

“Don’t worry, I can sell it,” Buck breathes, close enough that Eddie is near-dizzy with it. “Trust me.”

Buck closes the gap and kisses him then, taking advantage of Eddie’s surprised inhale to slip him a bit of tongue. Eddie’s eyes fall closed as he instinctively pulls Buck harder against him, the way his hands flex on Buck’s hips eliciting a pleased hum. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket once, twice, a third time before Buck pulls away with a final drag of his teeth along Eddie’s lower lip that leaves him dazed.

“I think you can probably get away with just responding to those texts now instead of going over there,” Buck says. Eddie clears his throat roughly and fishes his phone out of his pocket as it buzzes yet again.

_Damn, Diaz, who the hell is that?”_

_Am I hallucinating_

_UM????_

_If you come back over here for any reason other than that Hot Blond there is secretly a serial killer, I swear…_

Eddie feels his face heat. 

_Don’t wait up_ , he types back before Buck takes his free hand.

“Success?”

 _Be safe ;)_ , Charlene replies.

“Yeah,” Eddie replies, glancing back to Charlene and getting a thumbs up for his trouble. 

When they step outside, the first breath of fresh air—or at least relatively fresh, it’s still Vegas after all—is a hit of instant relief. Eddie rolls his head on his neck and exhales heavily.

“Better?” Buck asks, hand still warm in his. 

“Much,” Eddie admits. “I, uh—thanks.”

Buck shrugs. “Wasn’t exactly a hardship. I did get to kiss you, so…”

Eddie laughs. “That you did.” His tongue passes over his lower lip as he glances over at Buck, pausing for a moment before mustering the courage to add, “Pretty sure that’s supposed to come at the end of the date though.”

“Usually,” Buck agrees with a grin. “Although the night's still young—what do you think, should we do this right? I promise no more clubs.”

And this was the point of the week, wasn’t it? Eddie’s standing in front of a beautiful man who wants to take him out and for a night, a day, a week, he doesn’t have to be a single father or a workaholic. He can be someone spontaneous and confident and sure—he can be whoever he wants _Eddie Diaz_ to be. Maybe that’s easier said than done, but it’s still a starting place. Which is why, instead of talking himself out of it, he says—

“Where to?”

* * *

They wind up in a diner several minutes off the strip, and Buck can see immediately how much more relaxed Eddie is. 

“You’re really _not_ a club person,” he remarks as he slides into the booth. 

“I turned twenty-one in Afghanistan,” Eddie replies, leaning back against his backrest across the table. “Not a lot of opportunities for partying in the desert. And before that, I wasn’t the most social kid so…” He shrugs. 

“You military?”

“Army. For the next few weeks at least. Then I’m starting at the firefighter academy.”

“Didn’t realize I was out with a big damn hero,” Buck teases, pleased when he gets Eddie to flush again.

“I’m really not.” Eddie rubs at the back of his neck. “I sort of fell into being a combat medic and when I decided not to re-up my contract again I applied to the academy because I already know how to be a paramedic. I don’t really have any other skills and it’s a better job than most.”

They’re interrupted by the waitress before Buck can follow the thread of insecurity he hears in Eddie’s voice. When Eddie passes over his menu, Buck finally notices the tan line on his ring finger. In the club, in the car, it had been too dark, but now under the bright fluorescents of the diner, the pale strip is obvious and Buck’s stomach twists uncomfortably.

“What about you?”

Buck coughs and reaches for his water glass as he snaps out of it. “Sorry, what?”

“Where do you work? What do you do?” Eddie repeats, leaning forward, his elbows on the table. 

“Right now? Nothing,” Buck admits. “I thought about the military—” He doesn’t mention that it was mostly because he knew it would piss his parents off. “—my parents want me to go to grad school, but academia and I aren’t great friends...I’m figuring it out.” 

“In Vegas?”

“Hey now, judgment-free zone.” Eddie holds up his hands in surrender and Buck rakes a hand through his hair. He doesn’t like to mention the money, the fact that he doesn’t _have_ to figure his shit out, because that usually either puts people off or makes them overly interested for the wrong reasons. He considers it though, starts to open his mouth, when Eddie says—

“I wasn’t. Judging. If you can take the time to figure out what’s going to make you happy...you should.”

“What would make you happy?” Buck asks, catching Eddie’s eyes. “If you could do anything, be anyone...what would you do?”

Eddie’s eyes get serious, shadowed and distant. “I—I’ve never really—”

His phone rings then, a loud buzz in his pocket, and Eddie pulls it out with a distracted “sorry” as if he’s going to silence it, only to pale when he sees the name on the screen.

“Eddie?” Buck’s brow furrows as he leans forward.

“Sorry, I—” Eddie answers the call. “Sophia? What’s—no, it’s fine, I—no, no, I’m glad you called—yeah, put him on.” 

Eddie rubs at his forehead as he listens for something on the end of the line. Then, as if suddenly remembering Buck is right across the table, he looks up his eyes widening.

 _Emergency?_ Buck mouths?

Eddie sighs. _No, just—_ , he starts to reply, only to sit back and refocus on the call. “Hey there, buddy.”

His voice is soft, soothing, a definite shift from anything Buck has heard from him so far. Eddie pushes himself up signaling that he’ll be a minute, and as he walks away, Buck catches him saying, “That must have been really scary. Do you want to tell me about it?”

Buck slides down in the booth and pulls out his own phone to give his hands something to do while he waits. But scrolling aimlessly through his social media feeds does little to prevent his mind from flicking back to the line on Eddie’s ring finger, to the combination of worry and gentleness in Eddie’s tone. The question is what keeps Buck in his seat—the question and the fact that Eddie hasn’t yet struck him as the _goes to Vegas to cheat on his spouse_ type and Buck is willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

Their food comes and Buck makes small talk with the waitress, takes care of the check early to kill time and avoid any awkward arguing at the end. And then he moves fries around his plate until Eddie comes back, looking both tired and a little guilty. 

“Sorry about that,” he says as he slides back into his seat.

“It’s okay,” Buck replies. “Glad you came back though—wouldn’t be the first time someone’s taken a call in the middle of a date and run off so—”

“I wouldn’t—”

“It was a joke,” Buck assures. “Not a very good one apparently since you look like you’re freaking out a little over there.”

“Sorry,” Eddie says again. 

“It’s really fine. I promise.” Buck bites his cheek. “Do you...want to talk about it?”

Eddie blows out a breath and closes his eyes. Buck waits.

“My wife died,” Eddie admits finally. “And this is the first time I’ve been away from my son since it happened.”

Well, that explains a lot. Any of the lingering doubt and discomfort lifts away and Buck offers Eddie a small smile.

“You have a kid? I love kids.”

Eddie ducks his head, pulling out his phone again and tapping a few times before sliding it across the table.

“I love this one,” he says. “Christopher. He’s four.”

The picture is a smiling cherub of a kid with a mop of messy curls, glasses, and crutches, and Buck melts a little just looking at it.

“He’s adorable.” Buck slides the phone back. “He miss you?”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs. “Had a nightmare. My sister is looking after him while I’m gone, but apparently he wouldn’t let her put him back to bed unless she called me so…”

“Far be it from me to get between a kid and his dad,” Buck says. “That’s way more important than a date with someone you just met.”

Eddie’s lips curve up. “Thanks.”

“So...when you say you don’t do this…”

Eddie laughs quietly. “I didn’t date much in high school, and then I met my wife. I was in the middle of my second tour when she died—I came home and I’ve been focused on my son ever since. Haven’t had time for anything else. Anyone else.” 

Buck slides his hand across the table to cover Eddie’s—his thumb passes over Eddie’s knuckles and he smiles when Eddie shivers.

“Guess I really need to show you a good time then,” he says. “It’s only fair.”

When Eddie meets his eyes again, the renewed tension has started to bleed away, replaced by relief and gratitude. “Yeah?”

The swoop in Buck’s stomach has nothing to do with nerves. He feels like he’s at the top of a highrise, stepping out onto a tightrope. Like there’s an electric wire in front of him that he’s at risk of falling into. And yet he’s never been more eager to throw all caution to the wind.

What’s the worst that could happen?

“Oh, yeah. Just wait.”


	4. Chapter 4

Buck is...Eddie hardly even knows where to start. Bright, maybe. Like sunshine. Bright and charming and an absolutely shameless flirt, but somehow Eddie never feels like it’s fake. No matter how outrageous a line, timed and calculated to make him flush, it always feels like Buck means it. And what’s more, there’s no expectation, no feeling like he has to reciprocate or like Buck would laugh at him tripping over his own tongue to try.

He hasn’t been flirted with like that in...a long time.

It’s nice. 

An hour slips into two and then a third in the diner—Eddie loses track of how many cups of decaf he’s downed since the plates were cleared away and the waitress decided to just leave the coffee pot at their table. But finally, as Buck’s in the middle of a story about how he decided to give up his motorcycle, Eddie yawns.

“Sorry,” he says as Buck cuts off. 

Buck glances at the clock on the wall and shakes his head. “It’s after one—I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“Neither did I,” Eddie replies. “Surprised I didn’t turn into a pumpkin at midnight. Pretty out of practice at the whole staying out all night thing too.”

“Well, with a four-year-old, I wouldn’t expect any different.” Buck flashes a grin. “Must be the company that kept you going.”

Eddie laughs. “Must be.” 

Buck slides out of the booth and offers his hand, tangling their fingers when Eddie takes it.

“Come on, Cinderella, let’s get you to bed.”

Eddie feels a flash of heat and a flicker of boldness that he attributes to the hour and asks—

“Mine? Or yours?”

Buck’s eyes darken, his tongue sweeping over his lower lip as his eyes drop to Eddie’s mouth before he clears his throat roughly and tugs Eddie towards the entrance.

When they reach the car, Buck kisses him, licking into his mouth with filthy intention. He presses Eddie against the door and Eddie shivers—he’s not a small man himself by any means, but Buck feels like solid brick pressed against him like this, and all he can think about is having that weight on top of him on a mattress, or perhaps even better, having it underneath him entirely in his control—

Buck swears as he pulls away, breathless and flushed and beautiful, even in the lights of the flickering street lamp and fluorescent diner sign keeping the parking lot from falling into total darkness. Eddie leans in and nips at the skin beneath Buck’s jaw, grinning when he feels Buck’s breath stutter. 

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Buck steals another kiss and then huffs a laugh before replying—

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but...yours. As in, you in yours and me in mine. Because I can do a lot better than cheap diner coffee and would very much like the chance to make a real effort. Which, for the record, is why you should have dinner with me tomorrow.”

It’s the first time Buck’s seemed less than completely smooth—indeed, something close to flustered—and it makes Eddie smile. 

“I don’t need to be wooed,” he points out. “Just because I’m out of practice doesn’t mean I can’t figure out what I want.”

“Maybe I think you deserve to be,” Buck says with a shrug, his air entirely nonchalant except for the flicker of uncertainty that crosses his face after a beat. “If...that’s okay.”

Eddie swallows hard—he can’t really say what he’s feeling, but he doesn’t think it’s anything bad. Confusing. Unexpected. But no, not bad.

Not at all.

Although...he might be in trouble.

He sways in and kisses Buck again, but it’s light, sweet, with no expectation.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay.”

When Buck smiles, Eddie’s stomach swoops.

Yeah. Yeah, he’s in trouble.

* * *

Buck doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. 

As it turns out, he and Eddie are staying in the same hotel, which makes it plenty easy to walk him to his door, but even harder to leave him there. Buck feels nearly out of his body when he kisses Eddie softly and then walks away, a part of him yelling to go back, go inside, take what was being offered. The same part wonders if he’s an idiot when he gets back to his own empty room with its very sizable empty bed and falls back on it, staring up at the ceiling.

His lips are still warm. When he licks them, he thinks he can still taste the kiss.

Any other day, with any other person, he probably wouldn’t have hesitated. And he wants Eddie, he does—his hands itch with the urge to get on warm skin, he wants to mark up Eddie’s neck with his teeth, to trace corded muscle with his tongue—but when he thought about saying yes, he thought about _I don’t do this much_ and _my wife died_ and _haven’t had time for anything else_ and he couldn’t. Because Eddie’s not like the kind of people Buck usually sleeps with. He has commitments and responsibilities and Buck—

Buck wants to give him something to remember. Something that matters. Not just take and go their separate ways. 

Because _Eddie_ matters. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he groans and sits up to fish it out.

_I had a really good time tonight_.

Buck’s lips curve up.

_I’ll show you an even better one tomorrow_ , he texts back.

_You know I haven’t actually said yes to dinner._

_Are you saying no?_

_...no._

Buck laughs and types out—

_Pick you up at 7?_

_Okay_.

He tosses his phone aside and reaches for the room phone to call the front desk.

“Hi, this is Evan Buckley in suite 1210, I was hoping you could help me with a reservation—”

Yeah...he’s going to give Eddie a night to remember.

* * *

“Wait, wait, wait,” Charlene says at lunch the next day when Eddie begs off of another night of clubbing. “All that and you’re telling me you _didn’t_ sleep with him?”

Eddie shrugs. “He said he thought I deserved to be wooed.”

She stops in the middle of picking up a french fry and stares.

“He kissed you like that, but he didn’t sleep with you because he wants to woo you first?” Charlene repeats slowly.

“Marry him,” one of her bridesmaids—Melanie, Eddie thinks her name is—says. Charlene nods.

“I agree. Marry him.”

Eddie’s face heats and he rolls his eyes, hiding a smile behind his water glass.

“None of you even date men,” he points out.

“Which is why we have limited patience and good taste,” Charlene teases. 

“What happened to _keep an open mind, maybe you’ll get laid_?” Eddie asks. 

She grins. “I never said meeting your soulmate couldn’t be part of keeping an open mind and getting laid.” 

“It’s a fling. We’re here for the rest of the week and then I’ll probably never see him again.”

He doesn’t want to think about anything else. Can’t. Can’t think about anything else. Because he does like Buck, he likes Buck a lot, but that’s—does it even matter at then end of the day? He’s going to go home, back to his normal life, back to Christopher and Fort Bliss and then the Academy. Back to not thinking about himself, not caring about himself.

He has to remember that.

Charlene’s smile dims as she watches him and she squeezes his arm.

“Hey—we’re just teasing. I’m happy for you. He sounds really great. But...no pressure.” 

“What are we doing the rest of the day?” He asks, changing the subject, and Melanie launches into their spa treatment schedule. And it doesn’t come up again for the rest of lunch. 

But, after, Charlene catches up with him again.

“He is right, you know,” she says quietly. “You do deserve to be wooed. And any guy who recognizes that gets points in my book. Especially one who looks like that. So...enjoy it.”

Eddie hugs her from the side, not sure there’s anything to really say.

Except maybe—

“Want to help me find something to wear?”

Charlene’s smile turns wicked.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from MARINA's "About Love".


End file.
